Villanelle
Áine In Blue
Introduction This is my twenty-eightth piece inspired by Justine G. Cappelli's beautiful and inspirational artwork. I love that Justine always gives the full story behind the painting, which gives me more than just the painting to work from, but this is my ekphrastic impression of the painting. The first take is here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 6 days ago in Poets
The Bones Of Halloween. Top Story - October 2026. Content Warning.
This is a villanelle for the Spooky Season Challenge by S.A. Crawford which you can read about and join in here. It has been chosen as part of the Spillwords Halloween Collection and will be published here on 20th October 2026:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 9 days ago in Poets
Arch
The road to winter's arched with leaves, and lined with skulls, ghosts, and spiders that brighten as the cold wind reaves. With withered grass, the garden grieves the sun becoming quieter, the road to winter's arched with leaves. The decorations fall conceives, nocturnal concert of lighters that brighten as the cold wind reaves. Electric ghosts the sun reprieves laugh and mock death as divider. The road to winter's arched with leaves. All harmless fun, the town believes, haunts itself with headless riders that brighten as the cold wind reaves. The rustling windy brush achieves Painting trees amber like cider. The road to winter's arched with leaves that brighten as the cold wind reaves.
By A. S. Lawrence10 days ago in Poets
Welcome To October!
You hold the key to a secret door of octagonal shape: Two black cats, two crows bid entry--it opens with a quake-- “Welcome to October!” lightning cracks; a bat swirls his velvet cape Inside: cinnamon air swings crisp, to where scorpion stars are draped. The Masked Moon, the Mother of the Dead, brooms down with cider and spiced cakes-- You hold the key to a secret door of octagonal shape: Tunnel down fairy mounds cracked up from the ground, glowworms chant, “ ye may have no escape!” A path you snake, above and below, through a wily warped wood of apple, elm and mandrake-- “Welcome to October!” lightning cracks; a bat swirls his velvet cape At last comes a glen filled with lost Sweets within, marked by mossed stones upon the landscape. Fox, Stag and Hare, with dollies in their hair, dance 'round a fire that quivers and bakes-- You hold the key to a secret door of octagonal shape: Goblins and ghouls gorge on gourd, corn and grape. Owl deejays carnival tunes while satyrs and shapeshifters jive, shiver and shake-- “Welcome to October!” lightning cracks; a bat swirls his velvet cape Then into your void pocket you feel the key lost: swallowed by lapis lith or wind’s vape? Could all this be but a dream, at the frayed edges of sleep’s woven wake? You hold the key to a secret door of octagonal shape: “Welcome to October!” lightning cracks; a bat swirls his velvet cape
By Kate Kastelberg 12 days ago in Poets
A Kintsugi Heart
I was talking with a lovely friend and they described me as their gold for Kintsugi, I was taken aback by this beautiful compliment, although I shouldn't have been, but said that should be a poem. The focus on this is care and healing for those who need it.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Poets
Three senses against one
"A picture's worth a thousand words." They see a worm from far away, So why are we not ruled by birds? The words are felt and seen and heard, But pictures still require rays. A picture's worth a thousand words? The written knowledge man transferred Could still destroy the birds of prey. So, why are we not ruled by birds? Clichés can charm while truth gets blurred. It's one whole sketch to show "malaise". A picture's worth a THOUSAND words? With flags and eagles on their shirts, The bird's the boss they seem to say. So why are we not ruled by birds? Though eyes in instants are preferred, It takes too long to draw "cliché". A picture's worth a thousand words So why are we not ruled by birds?
By A. S. Lawrence3 months ago in Poets
